Squashing Self Doubt with Pink Running Shoes

I issued quite a bold statement a couple of weeks ago by telling all of you that I was going to become a runner. I typed it for all of cyberspace to see, which meant I could not repeal my daring declaration. I'm a woman of my word, so I had every intention to begin running. Did you notice that I never gave an exact date or instituted a concrete plan for this impending lifestyle change? Maybe I did that on purpose.


The momentum immediately following my announcement was strong. Friends reached out with support for me, and many even took my advice in declaring their own goals. I was so proud of all of you for your bravery. For your confidence. For your strength. You were inspiring!


One of my dear friends scheduled an appointment to fit me for running shoes. She is an expert, and if I was going to be serious, I needed the right equipment. No blisters for this mama. She and I spent the morning navigating the elaborate world of running footwear. It was overwhelming to say the least. She evaluated my gait. After a year in denial, I verbally admitted that my feet have grown a full size since my last baby was born.


Before sweet Anne lifted the lid from the first pair of shoes, she prefaced the reveal by saying, "How do you feel about pink?"


I like pink. I really do. My last pair of basic gym shoes were actually gray with pink accents. However, these babies were pink with a little bit of gray. Bright pink. Neon pink! The color pink I wore to the roller rink in 1986...as an eight-year-old. I modeled many styles and colors for Anne on that cheerful Saturday morning. Eventually, after trying out several pairs of shoes, the ones that felt the best and worked well with my foot shape turned out to be the atomic pink ones. Go figure.


After I packed up my fancy shoes and new running socks in my trunk, I still had no real plan laid out for how I was going to become a runner. I considered wearing my shoes to the airport to break them in, but I worried about the commotion their illumination would cause when gliding through the people mover. Instead, the shopping bag remained in my trunk for another two weeks. Waiting. Waiting for me to utilize the momentum once again and actually wear them.

My week away in Florida and then a week of end-of-school celebrations came and went. I still hadn't even opened the shoe box to show them to Mark or my kids. Maybe because that would make me more accountable to starting, to actually putting one foot in front of the other and going.


The right time to run eventually did arise. Last Wednesday afternoon, another friend of mine, who is already a runner, sent me a link to a 5K training group she was going to lead...which was going to begin in four days. Four days! She had been one of my biggest cheerleaders in this journey, and this group was not originally going to offer a session until the end of the summer. Enough of a need had arisen to start an extra training session now. Lucky for me! I decided the time was now. I promised her and told my very trusted physical therapist that I was going to do it. I was going to run a 5K in August.


All of the other girls who had considered running with me a month ago were becoming hesitant now that it was here. Now that it was real. I desperately wanted one of them to join the group with me, so that I wouldn't be the only newbie in a sea full of seasoned athletes. My confidence was waning. Somebody told me how hard it was going to be. My reserve of inspiration was slowly depleting. My husband feared I was going to try to run three miles on the first day, and he didn't want to see me hurt myself. I began to question my ability, just like I had done when I decided to try yoga last year (which, by the way, has become a part of me now...something I crave).


Perhaps Google would help ease my hesitation. Big mistake. A few quick searches, and I was doubting that I should even attempt the training. It's not actually called "Couch to 5K," which is what I think I need. What if it's too much too soon, and I can't do it? I don't even walk vigorously on a regular basis...I am freaking out!


In came my coach...my cheerleader, Wendy. She listened to my concerns and then told me not to freak and to show up. Two of my other friends would also be coaches, so a warm smile in the early morning was sure to go a long way. To my surprise, one of my previously hesitant friends decided to try it at the last second! She offered to pick me up so we could walk in together. Amazing! Everything was coming together so nicely, so I threw my apprehension out the window. I told Mark that I wasn't going to settle for any doubt, from anywhere or anyone...especially myself. I was going to run that 5K race in eight weeks. Nobody was going to tell me I couldn't do anything...ever.


What happened next was just what happened with my first time at yoga. I did what I had set out to do. Only this time I wasn't barefoot. I marched up, in my pink shoes, to a group of runners...and ran.


Surrounded by people from all walks of life, wearing every shade of neon color, we walked and ran and walked and ran...for sixteen minutes. When we circled back to the starting point, I was out of breath and sweaty and tired, of course, yet I felt exhilarated. Recharged by the fact that I had taken this challenge for myself seriously and conquered it. I pounded my doubt and fear into the pavement with my aggressive pink shoes.

Have you started on that journey you said you wanted to try last month? It's already the middle of June! If you sit around and pretend it will go away, like I might have done if it weren't for my special kicker-in-the-pantsers, you may regret it. Even if your body grows sore from using muscles you didn't know you had, or your mind tires easily from taking classes after a decade of only reading Dr. Seuss, it will be worth it. Let's go!

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Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder

One late October morning, while all of my children were at school, I embarked on a motherly mission to find a very specific Halloween costume for one of those kids. My highly-sensitive, hates-the-way-everything-feels-on-his-body, usually-never-wears-a-Halloween-costume, seven-year-old kid. I cannot tell you how thrilled I was that he actually chose to wear a costume this year! I was more than happy to spend my teensy weensy bit of free time that morning walking the aisles of Party City in search of the highly sought-after Green Ninja garb.

In the past, as any parent with sensitive children knows, Halloween has caused some major trauma in our family. We've had screaming, kicking, crying, yelling, fighting, all of which ends up with the child not wearing a costume anyway...obviously.

Our first glimpse into the world of no-costume Halloweens was when Trixie was just a toddler. We were living in Japan and were preparing to go trick-or-treating in the neighborhood surrounding the kids' International preschool. I was attempting to adorn her and Reese in their adorably plush Disney Store Pooh and Tigger costumes, which my mom had sent over from America. Trixie had such a major meltdown that I actually had to cut her out of the costume. Scissors went straight up the back of that sucker so I could peel it off of her, because she was so far into her sensory tantrum that there was no other way out of it. My kids were the only Americans in their school (the only kids who actually celebrated Halloween), and yet they showed up wearing pumpkin shirts instead of costumes to trick-or-treat.

Little did I know that our third child would also have such severe issues with his sensory system. Most parents whose children process their senses in a typical way can't imagine that other children do not find dressing up for Halloween to be fun and exciting. For those of us with sensitive kids, we accept their reality that Halloween costumes are annoying and itchy and hard and just feel wrong. It takes patience, and sometimes it can take years for parents to figure out just what is happening with our children's body systems.

Have you been there? Have you learned what works for them or are you still in the phase of wondering what the heck is happening?

As our parenting progressed, we, too, progressed at how quickly we could recognize the signs of sensory processing issues. Now, we just know what to expect, when to expect it, and we've learned to let the children guide most of what goes on their bodies. Whether or not our kids will wear a Halloween costume is always a toss-up. After I experienced the horror of slicing that brand new Winnie the Pooh to pieces, I happily vowed never to buy a Disney Store costume again.

One year, Chip decided to go as a stealth ninja for Halloween. Sounds like a costume, right? Well, actually, he just meant that he would wear all black clothing that was already part of his every day wardrobe. The next year, he was a soccer player. Again, nothing extra or unusual, just wearing his normal gym pants and his park league soccer t-shirt.

Does it matter to us what kind of costume or not-really-a-costume our kids wear for Halloween? Absolutely not. We want them to be comfortable and have fun, just like everybody else. However, early this September, we noticed a small shift in Chip's mentality. He started to talk about not wanting to wear anything at all this year, and then not wanting to go trick-or-treating. What was breaking my heart was that his sensitivity was going to start to hinder him.

Maybe some parents would find skipping trick-or-treat a good thing and not worth mourning. For us, it was a sad time, because we knew that Chip really did not want to give it up yet. He's only seven, and that kid LOVES candy. He craves it and sneaks it and devours it, and, well, he just loves it. All of his friends and sibs were growing excited for Halloween, yet he was unable to feel that happy anticipation due to his anxious sensitivity.

About two weeks before Halloween, Chip surprised us by quietly stating that he changed his mind and was planning to wear an actual costume this year. He had deduced that if he skipped any kind of costume and thus skipped trick-or-treating, he would not be receiving any candy of his own. His brothers and sister would not be obligated to share their stash with him, and he knew the rule:

No costume=no trick-or-treat=no candy. 

He had seen the Green Ninja costume in the Party City catalog, and somehow, he set his mind on that one. Something about Lego Ninjago, of course, because it's all the rage in second grade. When I found the costume in the store and looked at all of its layers and pieces, I didn't know how he would react when I brought it home. Would he willingly put it on over his clothes or exclaim that it bothered his skin or felt too tight? Parents with sensitive kids will rejoice with me when I tell you that Chip was ecstatic to see his Green Ninja costume waiting at his kitchen table seat after school. (We do have assigned seats at the dinner table-I highly recommend it to anyone with little ones who argue over where to sit). He put it straight on over his clothes and did not take it off until bedtime!

 

This night was a true reason to celebrate for my sensitive son. He shared with me how soft his new costume felt inside and that he could be like a real ninja while he was wearing it. He jumped, kicked, twisted and flailed, but this time, it was all in the name of play-fighting with Marshall. It was not to try to take off a costume that caused pain or frustration.

This weekend will be a special Halloween event at his school, where Chip can show off his new costume to all of the friends who don't live in our neighborhood. No more walking through the costume parade at school with kids asking him, "Chip, what are you supposed to be?" It will be glaringly obvious. He is a Green Ninja, and his mama is so proud of him!

To be honest, Halloween isn't the only time we struggle around here. We've come to realize that each child in our family has a varying degree of these feelings when it comes to what goes on or into their bodies. Their sensory processing struggles not only affect their clothing choices all year, but can also inhibit their abilities to enjoy food, sunlight and especially sound. As their parents, we can only do our best to guide them with ways to navigate the world that they inhabit. This year, Chip was able to place his love of candy above his fear of the unknown...that very scary world of Halloween costume discomfort.

http://www.autism-live.com/halloween-autism-advice.aspx

I decided to dedicate this topic to a 3 part series. Please read my other two sections in Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder:

Making Strides and Setbacks at Halloween (Part 2)

3 Rules to Navigating a New Stage of Parenting (Part 3)


If you have a child with autism or sensory processing disorder, how have you handled the struggles? What are you hoping to learn from other parents' experiences? Let's share how we have managed this issue in the comments section.

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Maybe Every Day Isn't Actually the Same

I have been seeing a twenty-something physical therapist who has this momentous task of treating my migraines. He's caring and kind and helpful, yet every Friday, he likes to ask me about my big plans for the weekend. Every time he asks me, I laugh. We don't have big plans for weekends. Our weekends are more of the same of our week days, with the added bonus that Mark is home with us. I do call it a bonus because I really love having him home during the day. Some wives are glad when the husbands are gone. Not this wife.

So, in my laughter, I still tell my PT of our plans: our exciting family plans. I am sure he doesn't know anyone like me in his real life. I must sound so old and boring. He's busy doing what twenty-somethings do...going to tons of weddings, living a carefree life with his adorable girlfriend, working in a great job!

Then when Monday comes around, I describe how our plans rolled out over the weekend. I tell him about our score of finding Honey Crisp apples for only $1.00 a pound at a road-side stand, saving us a trip to the Farmer's Market. I tell him how my two oldest kids are mastering all their swim strokes after just a few weeks with their new, super hardcore coach. I tell him that, sadly, their dad and I have to split up every Saturday morning because he's coaching number 3 in soccer while I take the others to learn from said swim coach. I tell him about the movie night I had with a girlfriend, the two of us sitting in our jammies, chomping popcorn and blondies, while watching a chick-flick. I tell him about planning for PTA and becoming addicted to The Blacklist and deciding that I really need to start taking yoga classes.

Gosh, all of these little bits of my life seem so random, but they make up who I am. They make up who we are as a family. Depending on what month it is, what season it is, what is going on at school or work, our lives do change. Each day is not actually the same. Although as parents, we often feel like we may never have a break from life droning on and on, I'm here to say that we will.

Last Saturday, I told you about the World Wide Day of Play. We were all set for a family bike ride and cleaning of the yard. Well, then the rain came! Really, like right after I finished my post. So, we played together inside instead, sans electronics.

This week, I started to notice that a change is coming around here. Fall (my very favorite time of year) is creeping into our woods. I've mentioned before that our home is surrounded by trees. I peeked out my bathroom window the other day to see the slightest shift in the colors of the leaves. A few branches at a time are gradually moving from their deep green to a golden yellow. The transformation had me thinking about what is to come for us this weekend...this Fall...this year.


We spent the start to our weekend doing what we would have done last weekend for the World Wide Day of Play. We absorbed the beauty of the nature that surrounds us. I swept up the acorns that cover our back deck. It's usually a job that only Mark does, but I was in the mood for some physical activity that would keep me outside in the unusually warm air. The acorns will keep dropping until who knows when, but at least they'll be clear for one day. I attempted to clear out the spider webs from the front porch, but I did chicken out of that one. They were so huge! Mark can do it later. We took a family bike ride to the park right near our house where the kids ran and jumped and slid and swung. Just awesome!

My favorite part of Friday night was when we all went out to dinner together. After a really busy week, I decided I wasn't up for cooking. We were sitting in one of those giant corner booths (that's what we need with our big brood), and amazingly, everyone behaved! We talked about our day and Halloween plans and who knows what else. I really don't remember; I just know it was relaxing and easy.

For a very long time, our dinners out were not so easy. Taking kids out in public is very unpredictable, and next time, who knows what will happen.

However, what happened this time was just magical and something that every parent dreams will happen to them. After dinner, as we were scooting out of our big booth, four adults were coming around the corner, too. We instructed our kids to stop to wait and let them pass, because one of the couples was pretty elderly. The oldest lady of the group stopped in her path, rested her hand on Mark's shoulder, and said, "You have such a nice family there."

I thanked her with a kind smile and made sure to tell the kids how proud of them we were to have a nice grandma compliment them in a restaurant. I'm here to encourage all of you moms and dads with little ones:

Please do not give up on taking them out in public!

No matter how many fits they throw at Target or the library or Red Robin or the doctor's office or church, there will come a day when you can eat in peace, and some incredible person will praise you for your lovely family! (My kids have thrown fits at all of those places...and more).

Honestly, this wasn't the first time someone has mentioned our nice family to us, but I'm sorry to say that I had forgotten about the other times until now. I really needed to hear it again this weekend. I needed to see that my family is my reason for where I am in life right now. I've also had plenty of crabby people make out-of-line comments to me about my kids' behavior in public. Ironically, those negative people are the ones who tended to stick in my mind, making me doubt my abilities as a mother. Screw them!

I'm imagining that the woman who talked to us yesterday also had a hectic journey through motherhood. She'd been in our place and could appreciate that we seem to be coming through it pretty well. For all of you out there who have given helpful hands to struggling moms and dads, or complimented the ones who seemed to be having one of those "good days," Thank You!

Next week, I know my PT will ask me how my big weekend was. Here is what I will tell him:

We had the best weekend ever! We exercised, cleaned the yard, watched The Blacklist, and a stranger complimented my family at Applebee's. How was yours?

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What A Difference a Year Makes

The sweet, little preschool where we send our children does something I had never heard of until we moved to this city. It's called a "Cooperative Preschool," and it's actually quite common where we live. It's something unique that I used to think was kind of crazy, but I've actually grown to love it.

We parents are required to spend one day each month working in the classroom, alongside the teacher. When Chip and Trixie were preschoolers, I always had other babies at home, so I couldn't be a Co-op parent. I was the only loser "Independent" mom in the class. We had to pay extra tuition not to help in the classroom. Trixie and Chip didn't have the benefit of their mama ever being there for circle time or field trips or Show and Tell. Sad, I know.

Many other children also had little sibs at home, but they tended to have grandparents or close friends nearby to baby-sit, so their parents could work in the classroom. We were new to this town when we found our little school, and so we just went the Independent route. The kids were used to it, and I didn't really have the option to feel too guilty about it.

By the time Number 4 was ready for school, there was no reason I couldn't be a Co-op parent. I would finally have my turn to be a parent helper! I could finally see every detail of my little boy's day, from drop-off to pick-up, and everything in-between. I would be there for it all! Yay for us!!!

My first year as a Co-op parent was definitely a wake-up call. Spending a full morning with thirteen three-year-olds had its share of adorable moments and those I'd rather forget. Until I was in the trenches, I never could have imagined all that nose picking.

What I loved about being a Co-op parent was spending time guiding all of the children, not just my own. It's actually not possible to walk into the building expecting to dote on our own kids. We go in as an assistant to the teacher with very specific goals in place for the day. While I carried out my parent helper duties, I found myself growing attached to all of the other little tots: the boys and girls who were sharing their first school experiences with my Marshall. My school teaching days were long behind me, but once a month, I could experience a little snippet of them through my parent helper turns, with the added twist of my maternal instincts.

Marshall and I just finished up our first Co-op day together for his second year of preschool. It was really fun to see all the familiar faces from last year, and some new ones who started school for the first time this Fall. I was astonished at how much has changed since the beginning of school just one year ago.

Last September, those teeny little three-year-olds never had been away from their parents.

They didn't have a clue how to find their cubbies or nametags.

Some had probably just learned to use the potties at home, and suddenly they were going all alone in the big school toilet.

Sitting down on the carpet for circle time? Forget it!

Washing hands, lining up, having snack and drink...all required lots of guidance.

This September, the children are obviously so much older and wiser. I'm so proud of my own son and the strides he has made, but I'm also proud of all the little ones I have watched blossom during the past year.

Not seeing them over the summer, and then working with them all morning was kind of surreal. They were still the same munchkins, but they suddenly exhibited a big kid confidence. I noticed the growth spurts in these four-year-olds right away. I noticed their increased independence and progressions in speech. The kids I worked with last year were comfortable at school and talked with me quite a bit. I observed that they had already made friends with the new students and adjusted to their new teacher with ease.

When the day was finished, and the kids' had exercised their fine-motor skills to the fullest, I set down my broom for a brief moment. I smiled proudly as they walked down the stairs, in a straight line and out the door to the playground.

The veterans and the newbies.

They'll all be masters of Four-school before I know it.

I am thankful that I will have this one last year to be a Co-op parent, watching Marshall and all his classmates grow together before they enter that big and very real world of Kindergarten.

I found myself feeling a little sad for never having the opportunity to experience these moments with my other children. They went to preschool without their mama ever in the building with them. They were Independent right from the start. I wasn't able see the drastic transformation in them like I did in the preschool kids today, but I know it did happen.

Wow, did it ever. 

 

 

How do the preschools work where you live? 

He Just Walked Right in without Me

After all the talks we have had during the summer months about our four-year-old starting preschool again this fall, I was fully prepared to have a tearful runner aiming for the door. When Wednesday morning rolled around, you can bet that the first words to come out of his mouth were, "I'm not going to school today!"

He did manage to ready himself for the day, thanks to finally being allowed to wear his new Minecraft superhero t-shirt. Buckled into his car seat, he was still determined to ditch school. As we were finally traveling the familiar road to his charming little school, he began to give me a final excuse of why he didn't want to go.

"Mom, school's boring! We never do anything fun there!"

I know that his preschool is not boring, so I made one last ditch effort to pump him up with how great it was going to be this year.

I explained to Marshall how much fun preschool would be this year because he was much older and bigger than he was last year. He and the other kids would be able to play more games, learn new songs, hear other stories, make cooler crafts, and most importantly, pour their own snacks and drinks. Only big kids are allowed to fix their own snacks and drinks! 

Last year, he was with three-year-olds, but this year, he's in the big kid class, and he'll really see how fun it is to be a big kid. We talked all the way to school about what makes four-school different from three-school...now known as, "when he was little." He sounded most interested in the snack and drink.

We arrived at school about five minutes after the doors opened, which happened to work out just perfectly for us. It was such a great idea to come in the building after the hustle and bustle was done, when all the parents and little sibs were long gone. (I'll pretend like I planned it that way, when in all honesty, I was just running a little late). 

Marshall had ample space to find his cubby and nametag. He took his time looking around the coatroom before peeking his head into the class, where all the little buddies he hadn't seen since June were already in the zone. I stopped for just a second to say hi to another mom who was filling out some paperwork, and the next thing I knew, Marshall was gone.

Not gone out the front door, as he had done when he was little, but gone, all by himself, into the classroom. He was sitting quietly at a table, playing toys with his friend, acting as though it had only been three days since they had last seen each other; not three months.

My little, anxious boy didn't even say good-bye to me. He felt so right at home in his cozy school, where thankfully, his teachers truly do make it feel like home. I wasn't worried anymore that he would cry when I left. I wasn't worried about anything. I did manage to snap one picture while he was playing at the table. I didn't have any other first day of school pictures of him; none of him standing and smiling, raring to go. It wasn't important to have that pose. By the fourth child, I've learned what matters and what doesn't. What was important was for him to feel safe for me to leave him. He felt safe, and I knew it.

As he played, I talked with the moms for a few more minutes, and then strangely, I found myself not wanting to leave. I had been looking forward to my child-free coffee date with my best friend for the past three months, but I just couldn't quite walk out the door.  Marshall didn't need me there. In crept those familiar mothering feelings of happy for him, sad for myself. 

Obviously, I shook myself out of that temporary haze, and I did leave. K and I chatted peacefully over coffee and bagels, and when I ran into a neighbor of mine, she was surprised to see that all of my kids were in school. I sort of was, too. I had to think about it for a second. 

"Wait, where are my kids? Oh yeah, I do have exactly 2.5 hours to myself today!"

After the long-awaited alone time was over, I was really excited to find Marshall, give him a hug and take him back home with me. He told me that he wasn't ready to go yet. What a relief and total change from the morning. As his mom, I knew he was going to have a wonderful time, but he was just having nervous feelings about the unknown. I feel that way, too, as most anyone does in a new situation. 

Eventually, after I pried him away from his friends and the excitement of having sand in the playhouse, guess what he told me was the best part of his day? 

Pouring his own snack and drink. 

I've learned so much as a mom of preschoolers. This year will be my final experience taking a child to preschool. As I reflect on what we have been through over the years, this is what I know:

Each child has handled preschool differently, and I have learned that we have had to adapt our parenting of them during these years. 

Some of our kids started younger than others; some went in the mornings, and some in the afternoons. Until this last one, I always had other kids or babies in tow, which made the experience that much more stressful for everyone.

I won't pretend like my kids all eased into preschool. I would watch some young children just walk right in and never look back, while mine were paralyzed by anxiety. One of ours threw up every single day the first time he started preschool, so eventually, we pulled him out and waited a lot longer before starting school again. One of them waited outside of the morning circle, unable to bring herself to join the group for at least the first semester. One of them refused to wear his nametag or let his hands touch paint for the whole first year. Then, there's the one who I thought was handling the adjustment really well until about Christmas, when he started crying  and bolting for the door every time I tried to leave.

Now I'm the mom at preschool with just one kid who walked right in on his own. Maybe other moms will look at us and wonder how it's so easy for us. How lucky I am not to have a toddler in one hand and a baby carrier in the other. I have been there. I do know. I feel the pain for any parent going through school anxiety, at any stage. Marshall may cry on Friday, who knows! I can only smile and offer encouragement to those in this truly trying stage of parenting.

If you're a parent considering preschool options and feeling pressure to choose what your friends are doing or what you did for your other children, please know that we have all felt those pressures. I would encourage you to just take time to think it over, talk it over, and let it play out. Don't be afraid to change your mind. No two children have the same needs, even in the same family. Family changes, like adding a new baby or moving, always make waves, so we as parents have to learn to ride them together. Some children never attend preschool or kindergarten, and being at home is best or easiest for them. Playgroups, story time, and parent outings to farms, music classes, and the grocery store provide plenty of learning and social experiences for many kids.

Best of luck to all of our little ones in school this year.  May we all handle the changes with courage and grace. (Tears and snacks are optional).





 

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The Joys of U-Picking. Wait, Is That Even a Word?

We live in a city where U-pick farms are abundant:  strawberries, blueberries, apples, and pumpkins are our favorites.  Each year, we manage to  pick fruit from at least one or two of them.  Yesterday, I took two of our kiddos blueberry picking, which happened to be one of the best u-pick experiences we have had in the six years since we've lived here. 

The apple orchard is a rite of passage field trip for the little ones but also a really great time for moms, dads, grandmas, and grandpas.  We load up on bushels full of apples to take home for apple pies, apple sauce, apple cake, and just lots of fresh juicy apple eating. 

Strawberry picking is perfect for the short bodies of children, since the berries grow really low to the ground.  We didn't make it out this year because this was the summer my foot was broken, and the fields are muddy and full of bugs.  Not conducive conditions for  my glorious boot.  We purchased our strawberries from the local farmers' market instead, which means they're just as sweet and juicy, just cost a teeny bit more.  Everyone around here makes jam.  I do not.  I eat the strawberries, bake with them, and then freeze some with the intention to make smoothies with them.  Also, something I don't really do. 

The pumpkin patch is hit or miss being in the Midwestern Fall.  It's fun to ride out into the farm on a tractor full of hay with the kids.  Some years, it's gorgeous weather; others, it's wet and cold.  That's just the way it goes around here.  If we make it out to pick our own pumpkins, good for the kids.  They have fun choosing one that's just right for them, still on the vine with plenty of dirt all around.  If not, they'll have not quite as much fun choosing one from the giant bin at Meijer.  Those are actually much cheaper, so when we're buying four of them, sometimes it's just the way to go.

Now on to what is always my favorite fruit to pick:  blueberries.  They're so easy!  You do not have to worry about them bruising or being smashed in your bucket like apples and strawberries.  They are just so hardy and fall right off the bushes with the slightest wiggle.  I usually take all four kids to pick blueberries, but this year, two of them were with their grandparents for the week.  Trixie and Marshall  were the ones with me, so we went together on what turned out to be just the most beautiful day.  No sweltering sun beating down on us, no mosquitoes buzzing around, just an overcast afternoon where we could take our time and talk peacefully to each other through the blueberry bushes.

The farm had small colored sand buckets for kids like Marshall, and bigger white buckets for Trixie and me.  We tied the buckets around our necks and trudged through the fields to find bushes overflowing with round, dark berries.  We also ran into some friends of ours, so we chatted with them while searching for those sweet, juicy fruits to take home.  The three kids in that family were having a contest to see who could pick the most!  What a great idea for mine next year.  I'm totally stealing it. 

Marshall was eating every other berry he picked off the bushes.  It's typical for him (and even allowed).  Last year when we picked strawberries, he took a bite out of every single berry before he placed them in his bucket.   He and Trixie were so proud of the blueberry haul they procured in forty short minutes.   I'm proud of them, too, and thankful for the year's worth of treats we'll have because of their quick work.  Pancakes, muffins, pies, buckles, cakes, cheesecakes-yummy! 

A few times while we were out in the fields, seemingly out of nowhere, Marshall called to me through the bushes, "Mama, I love you!"  Gosh, what a sweet sound from my sweet little boy.  I really needed to hear it.   In a few months, the warmth of Summer days will be replaced by the chill of Winter nights.  When we wake up on a cold, snowy morning and the kids ask for me to bake some blueberry muffins, I'll march down to the basement to pull a bag of our frozen berries from the freezer.   I'll sigh and fondly recall the comforting feelings of this fantastic U-pick day! 

Check out the recipe I use for Blueberry Buckle:  http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/2014/07/blueberry-buckle.html


A past trip with all four kids to the blueberry farm:  a wonderful family bonding experience! 

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School Supplies-Like Christmas in July

A normal summer chore, shopping for school supplies, turned out to be just what our family needed this weekend. We usually go close to the end of summer, when the stores are crowded with frenzied moms searching for all the right items on their lists. Our little planner girl had been bugging me to take her shopping since she received her supply list in the mail back in June. She even made sure to type it and save the list to my desktop, just in case the original was lost or destroyed. As if that ever happens in our house. When is the last time an important paper had milk accidentally spilled on it or was tossed in the garbage with a piece of chewed gum wrapped inside of it? 

Trixie was especially excited to shop for school supplies in July, but I really was not that eager to go at first. We still have over six weeks left of summer vacation, so I felt like shopping now would damper our chill vibe. I did not want to think about what preparing for fall involves: waking up for school and packing lunches and monitoring homework and balancing the schedules-for four very different children! I felt like we just finished doing it for last year, why would I want to face the inevitable mayhem awaiting us in September?

Surprisingly, something completely different happened while Trixie and I shopped together. I was like a giddy school girl myself, strolling up and down the aisles of Staples. I was having a crazy good time helping her choose a new backpack, folders, and scissors, but I also found myself becoming excited at the trendy aqua colored journals and cool containers of push pins. Can you believe how many colors of Sharpies are available now? That store is like a sea of possibilities, overflowing with really fun tools and incredible supplies. Oh, the stories I could tell, the papers I could organize, the pencils I could sharpen. I kept imagining that I was like Kathleen Kelly, dreaming about bouquets of newly sharpened pencils from Joe Fox, er, I mean from Mark. 

I longed for everything new for myself. Instead, I practiced restraint and focused my energy on finding just the right items for all the kids. Marshall does not need his own supplies for preschool, but I knew that he would love to have something new like his older siblings. An eight pack of really fat crayons and some colored pencils of his own have absolutely hit the spot. Chip is thrilled to have his first 64-pack of crayons. He cannot believe how huge it is and yelled, "Mom, it even has sea green!" Reese's middle school binder is chock full of crisp white notebooks and a brand new pencil case. Trixie's backpack is sweet and sassy, and she already checked to make sure her snow pants will fit inside it this winter.

The fun did not stop at the store. Teacher Trixie had the boys sit in a circle while she pulled items out of the shopping bags. They made a game of it, guessing which supplies were for which kid. Second-grader Chip was hoping they were all for him. I could not stop smiling while I experienced the newness through the eyes of these children. The teacher in me, the mom in me, and the school-loving little girl in me are so thrilled that my children are having as much fun with preparing for school as I always did. I could not believe how gracious and thankful they were. It really was like Christmas morning, although they were shrieking over pencils and Post-Its instead of Legos and Wii games. We experienced a proud parent moment for sure. Now we can relax and enjoy the rest of summer knowing their bags are packed and ready to go. That is until the first day rolls around in September and the chaos begins again.

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